a poem by Sumandodril

Dollar, Pound, Mark and Yen:
stronger than the might of a pen.

Brings together people in unison:
the best form of communication.

Though it’s value you can’t deny:
it’s consequences you can’t defy.

All the battles won and lost:
the human lives that it has cost.

Fame and glory were the goal:
to become rich, it took its toll.

That it is innocent, you might reason;
but it’s the motive, for men of treason.

With little of it, all you want to buy:
with tons of it, in sleepless nights, alone you lie.

In the hands of a beggar:
worth a million, a meagre dollar.

In the hands of a miserly millionaire:
worth the idea to become a billionaire.

Can it buy the sweetness of honey:
no, it is after all money.